


After PR

by SadGladMad



Series: Public relations [2]
Category: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer - Fandom
Genre: Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 07:40:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17483999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadGladMad/pseuds/SadGladMad
Summary: The consequences of the interview are unexpected.





	After PR

**Author's Note:**

> Follows on immediately from Public relations. Read that 1st.  
> Tagging fail.

Armie didn’t react at all. He must have been busy. Not seen the video.

Timmy was torn- he kinda wanted a reaction and some low key sass. This wasn’t really disappointing because it was nothing. Sure the kids ignored them in the media, but Armie was usually so focussed on Timmy. He knew he was being needy. 2 needy people do not a great relationship make.

The unconsummated years at Armie’s insistence. The argument before the sequel. The hotel room in Paris. Armie’s tears.

You’re so young. You don’t know yourself. You are beautiful and desirable and the whole world wants you.

“Don’t be Oliver! I’m not Elio you fucker..don’t treat me like my love for you is worth less than yours. It’s dismissive and it’s not fair and it’s not you.”

He had been silently devastated by that and after too long he managed to speak, his voice was quavering . “It’s too much Timmy. If I lose you …no…hear me out…when you find someone more talented and grounded and less impulsive and better than me, you’ll leave and I will never recover.

He was sobbing now “you are the greatest actor of your generation and you’re a role model and a beacon of hope for “…

He couldn’t stand it anymore. “ I have been in love with you since I was 21.. 6 years. You gave her a chance when you were younger and you got married! You won’t give us a chance . That’s not fair. What happened to the risk taker? I love you, you fucker and you love me. Get over here!”

He envelopes him . He kisses his tears away. He takes his broad, too broad shoulders and rests them on the pillow next to him. He holds him and lets him cry. Silently. Wiping them with the bed sheets.

He feels like a husband for the 1st time.

Looking back he was strangely calm. He thought about how destiny had led them here. Neither of them ready for each other in Crema. Or Rome. “ We are so lucky, “ he murmurs, his voice gravelly and soft into Armie’s hair.

That night they talked about their fears, the obstacles, the PR, the messy tabloid breakups. There was gonna be a contract. Promises and whispers tattooed across their hearts. A promise to leave each other before infidelity. A sacred promise at the end. 3 years negotiated into 5. It’s the security they both needed. If they hated it, then they would have to go to therapy together.

In the end the counselling started a few months after..when the cancer was diagnosed. It was too close..They needed each other too much and being apart was hideously awful this time. Armie turned down that role and started helping Pauline around her set while Timmy was filming. Gradually he and Pauline started taking over the apartment. Scripts, notes, books, references and dvds, props…

He’s lost in these memories when the study door slams.

“Whatcha doing ?” He knows that look. The blue eyes are mischievous.

“Evil Armie strikes again, “he mocks.”What did you do with my bae? Where’s your twin?”

“SASSY!” He yells laughing and picking him up like a pet poodle.

“SASSY!”

“Oh god…oh god…no Armie ! No! Baby no please…it’s my favourite… “. He knows his pleas will go unheard. He’s laughing so much he can barely hear himself. Armie is cackling so loudly and running.

They land with a huge splash in the very cold water. The kids come running to the balcony of the 2nd floor.

They surface laughing.

“ Uncool Armie. Very uncool.”

The yelling from the balcony gets louder.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd.  
> 2nd fic ever.


End file.
